


Your wounds and my sutures

by salytierra (octavaluna)



Series: Land of rabbits [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Historical Hetalia, Historical Metaphors, Human & Country Names Used, Hurt/Comfort, Iberian Brothers, M/M, Polyamory, Sibling Incest, Sibling Rivalry, and mentions of a bunch of people, they are cute as a button, time changes and so do relationships, yet another view on the history of those two idiots through the ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 03:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octavaluna/pseuds/salytierra
Summary: "I'm sorry." Spain said once, as they lay on the grass, looking up at the starry sky. "My love has always been a burden to you."





	Your wounds and my sutures

**Author's Note:**

> *Sigh* Yes... the title is from Fall out Boy's "Immortals"
> 
> Anyway, this story goes in the same line as my Empires of the Sun series but I updated my headcanons, gave them more intensity and glossed over to get a general feel of their relationship, rather than focusing on the details. It's meant to be an introduction for the next two pieces in this series. 
> 
> As a novelty I gave up on Nicolau (it started sounding weird even to me) and tried out the "João" thing. Tell me if it worked out or not, pls. 
> 
> Now, I hope you enjoy reading this and much as I enjoyed writing it. Those two are my weakness and I love them too much~

 

They say that the human existence is driven by three principles: love, freedom and safety. Portugal always thought that it was unfair how throughout his life he's only ever been allowed to have two at the same time. Like most people, actually, but still a nuisance.

Maybe it was really his fault. He'd loved many people, in many different ways, but there was only one person that he had loved with such intensity it sometimes even made up for the pain and suffering that that love brought him. After all, those who can't feel, those who _don't_ feel, might as well be dust in a grave.

But feelings are also signs of weakness. Parading them on everyone's sight meant exposing all your sensitive spots, giving them away for others to use and abuse. So he'd always kept them inside, locked away and contained behind a swallow smile. His features and hands calm and pleasant, like the still waters of the Targus, even as a storm raged inside him.

Out of the three principles of human existence, young João had always valued freedom the most. Safety had never meant much to him and love- well. At some point _love_ stopped being just a word written with care in manuscripts and began taking the shape of somebody he knew so well.

Spain, on the other hand, always preferred a different approach. He wore his feelings on his sleeve, his love in his actions and his hate woven into his halberd. And no love in his life has ever been greater than his love for his brother. If only because there was no way on the face of the earth to love somebody that he didn't feel for João.

Individually, maybe, there were others. Austria had been his one great romance. A fairy tale of times past, courtly love and openhearted devotion; an all-consuming passion between ballrooms and never-ending palace corridors; longing, and the most devastating heartbreak of his life. His children - either by blood or adoption - were the apples of his eyes. He played favourites, let's be honest, and never had doted on them the way he might have wanted, because the life and duty of a nation is first and foremost to their people and their king. But by God did he love his family! The great Queen Isabella - the mortal woman that he called "mother" and admired even long after her death. He had grown in the shadow of a future she envisioned for him and his fall was made even more painful by the belief that he was disappointing her memory. Ireland; the best friend that he'd never saw as anything more or tried to chain to his side but respected and confided in like in nobody else. France; his consummated rival that had carved for himself a special place in Spain’s heart with the edge of a sword…

Different types of love all piling up on top of each other, and in every possible way, there was his love for João.

It sprung from the first days of his life and grew into a visceral obsession. For so much time had they been each other's only satellite. Understanding each other as nobody else could. Because when foreigners came, it often meant having to let go of each other's hand. In those periods of separation, something had grown inside each of them, something different. A need to prove to the world who they were and what they stood for, and to do it while looking each other in the eye.

They had been each other's first everything, but no moment of bliss had ever lasted long.

The Pyrenees isolated them from the rest of the land but neither brother had ever feared the sea. _"Non-plus-ultra"_ fearfully whispered the inland powers, looking at the dark and mysterious waters of the Atlantic. Well, guess what? They proved there was nothing to fear from that overgrown puddle.  Maybe Portugal more so than Spain. He had always been curious, less of a house mouse and more of an explorer. Bored in their little square of land, he wanted to live the adventures depicted in the classic plays and legends. The Odysseus of the new age!

With time Portugal learned the unfair rule of his existence. If he chose safety and freedom, it meant the open seas and the armed fortresses back home. It meant being his own person, being powerful and admired. It meant having a pride to shine with and so much to learn and take from the world; new lands and new opportunities. But it also meant meaningless sex to fill the loneliness in his heart, it meant rebellious tears in his eyes and an obsession with any news, any word coming from the neighbouring kingdom.

It meant locking his heart away and letting it bleed off.

If he caved and picked love and freedom instead, it left him exposed, in heart body and soul. Because here lays the fault in their relationship - Spain might have never been a jealous person, but he was possessive to an extreme. And even more protective with those he considered his. If you gave him your hand, he drew you in completely, placed you under his wing and fought for you with teeth and nails. He thought that love meant keeping his dear ones safe, and that meant absolute control over what they did and who they spoke to. For João, choosing to open his heart to Antonio also had always meant having to fight him for his freedom, a danger that he was never able to endure for long.

He'd given in once, seeing no other way out of it anyway, chose love and safety and let Spain cross his threshold. Antonio had been so happy the day the Iberian Union was consummated. João, at the beginning, was hopeful too. But that happiness didn't last long. Even after all the promises he'd made Spain write down, his brother kept exceeding his rights. Portugal was not his to take and use like he did with his colonies, to monitor his every move and question his actions, and yet _... "It's for your own good."_ he kept whispering late at night. _"I just want to make sure we are inseparable. Nobody can keep you safe like I do; nobody can love you like I do."_

The loss of the Netherlands multiplied that suffocating attitude by a thousand. Feeling rejected and insulted, Spain was adamant to not let anyone else in his household follow Jan's example. He honestly believed that if he trapped his little birds in a cage strong enough, they would never fly from his side.

In addition to the growing political frustration, João also had to face something that he never thought he’d have to deal with - jealously. Austria, the only person he'd ever felt jealous of. Just what exactly made Roderich worthy of both love and respect from Antonio? What made him an equal in Spain's eyes? They were the power seat of Europe. They loved each other but stood side by side, on the same level. So why couldn't João be treated in the same way? It seemed that Antonio only respected Portugal when he didn’t own him.

So finally, he snapped. He ditched love for freedom and kicked Spain out of his kingdom. In a feat that took all of his remaining pride, force and drive. However, it didn't bruise his heart as much as he expected it would. Whatever, Spain needed to be taught a lesson in humility. Like a premonition to all the losses he'd suffer in the future.

Through the following decades and centuries João had opened his arms for Antonio as much as he'd closed his borders, in a give-and-take of passion, risk, resentment, cold shoulders and worry. A vicious co-dependence that both were adamant to pretend didn’t exist.

But Time was the only thing that the tenacious brothers had never managed to tame. It was relentless, unforgiving and, paired with its capricious mistress Fortune, took away the same graces it had once granted. Not even Gilgamesh managed to reach immortality, so how could have their glory ever aspired to be eternal? As the centuries passed, the ruthless spark of youth faded, and so did their determination and endurance.

So many losses followed, so many defeats and tears shed into blood-soaked ground… One tragedy, one loss after another, and both of them wilted as others took their place on the top of the pyramid that decided the order of the world.  

Antonio paid for his own mistakes with his health, his sanity and just everything that made him _Spain_. His bravado, his pride and golden shine had completely withered even before the Civil War, and João never thought he'd miss them so much as when he held the frail and mauled body of his brother in his arms, soothingly cradling his dingers through his hair and keeping each other close for a few hours every time they both managed to sneak away to the border.

"I'm sorry." Spain said once, as they lay on the grass, looking up at the starry sky. "My love has always been a burden to you."

Unable to come up with the right thing to answer, Portugal just squeezed his hand tighter in silent reassurance. But hours later, on his way back home he kept thinking about that confession. No - he finally decided - it's _my_ love that has always been a burden for me. It would have been so easy to just coexist in relative peace, ignoring each other or ignoring Antonio's propositions. Instead, he kept playing that game of push-and pull, reaching out for Spain every time he felt the other drifting away, keeping him at arm's length but on a short leash. They were both responsible for the way their history had developed and they both needed to feel assured of the other's love and affection every now and then.

 

 _"Sometimes unreasonably."_ João thought as he leaned on the railing of the bridge, looking down at the barely there string of water that washed the stone. If someone had asked him right then what was he doing in that place, in that moment, he wouldn't have known what to answer. For almost half of a century those stones had represented something irreplaceable for him, but it's been almost ten years since the last time he set foot on them or inside that village.

He turned his head to his right, to anyone who might be observing it probably looked like he stood right in the middle of the bridge, but actually he was just a centimetre to the left. Following an impulse, he shifted his foot, crossing that invisible line just a bit, leaving it there for a couple of minutes.

Whatever he might have expected... nothing happened.

Sighing, João straightened up and, turning on his heel, walked back to his car. _Such a waste of time._ He had yet another round of negotiations next week and should probably get as much work done as he could instead of making useless trips around the country.

Sometimes he wondered if it was even worth it - entering the European Economic Community. They promised a lot but also asked for too much in return. His bosses were enthusiastic though, even despite his people's, and his own, residual scepticism.

 

"Good Job." England told him on Tuesday afternoon, hand on his shoulder, and Portugal nodded, starting to collect his notes. They walked down the hall in silence until João heard his name. Turning around he saw Spain, smiling apologetically at him with the Italy brothers by his side.

"João may I talk to you later? If you’re still around."

"Yes, of course." He figured he knew what Antonio was going to ask him. Scribbling down his room number on a useless piece of paper poking from his portfolio he handed it to his brother. "I'll be in for the rest of the day."

"Okay, see you later."

"Did something happen between you two?" Arthur asked him as they resumed walking.

"I wonder." Portugal mumbled, more to himself than to his friend.

Despite all the work that he had to do for the next day, João accomplished absolutely nothing in the next few hours. There was a knot down in his gut that he didn't know how to get rid of. He took a shower and brushed his hair several times, then changed his shirt but took it off and put on a simple tank top, then changed into the previous attire again, pacing the room, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. By the time a knock came from the door he was in a pretty dark mood, so when he opened it with force and a scowl on his face, Antonio's cheerful smile flinched in worry.

Still, Portugal stepped aside to let him in and closed the door, like erecting a barrier between them and the rest of the world. A simple action, that for some reason calmed his nerves a little.

"Hola, hermano." Antonio said, smiling softly at him, a note of genuine affection in his voice. So João leaned forward, touching their foreheads together as he closed his eyes just for a second.

"Hey, kiddo." He whispered softly into the silence of the room.

"Are you okay?" Antonio whispered back, gently rubbing their noses together.

"Not really? I'm just... this is so stressful."

"Yeah, I get what you mean." Spain was in the same situation, after all.

Antonio leaned forward, depositing a chaste kiss on João's lips and then just pulled him closer, resting his forehead on his brother's shoulder. They stood like that for a while, just offering and taking silent reassurance, like they'd done so many times in the course of forty years.

"Why were you in Rihonor?" Antonio finally asked, drawing away.

"I don't know." João told him the truth. "I guess... I've been surrounded by so many people in the past few weeks that I started to feel lonely. I don't know if that even makes sense."

Maybe it didn't to anyone else, but it was enough for Spain. They understood each other on an almost instinctual level, after all.

"I missed you too, brother." Antonio whispered into his ear and João smiled against the skin of his neck. Barely a century ago that simple sentence, spoken with such innocence, would have been enough to raise a shade of alarm within him. However, they've come far enough, Spain had learned to respect his boundaries and had desisted in trying to tie Portugal to him by force or marriage. 

Besides, the world has changed. Too much even, and in that frenetic race to catch up, to adapt, the instinct to seek something familiar and safe was almost like an aching need.

"Then stay with me tonight." He mumbled, gliding his palms up Spain's sides and chest until he could cup his face in his palms.

Antonio's hands came to rest against Port's as he smiled apologetically. "There's nothing I would love more. However, we both have to prepare for tomorrow, do our duty and not sleep in in the morning."

João sighed, recognizing the truth in his words. "Since when are you the responsible one?"

"I just really, _really_   want this to work out, for the both of us." Antonio answered, but he didn't sound very convinced. His eyes kept flicking sideways, in the direction of the bed as he bit on his lower lip. João just waited, stiffening his smile. Spain had never been able to say no to him. "Well, maybe just for a little while, if it's less than an hour, I could stay..."

Portugal kissed him sweetly, around the curve of his own lips, turning them around and forcing Antonio to walk backwards until his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he collapsed, sprawled over the sheets with his welcoming arms drawing João in.

"I promise to make haste." He mumbled reassuringly against the skin of his lover's neck, kissing and sucking at it happily, any traces of his previous bad mood completely gone. "And this weekend I can drop by and we can take all the time in the world," kiss "and sleep in till noon" kiss "and I'll let you make me food and we'll drink wine and argue over stupid stuff" kiss "and then make up in the best way."

"Funny how you directly assume we are going to argue." Spain snorted, his hands working on the buttons of João's shirt.

"Well, it's not my fault that you can't stay for more than two hours without becoming insufferable."

Antonio laughed openly, head thrown back and his entire body shaking with mirth. "I love you too." He declared once his laugh subsided, and João just grinned at him in response, leaning down to steal even more breath with a proper kiss.

They say that the human existence is driven by three principles: love, freedom and safety. Portugal always thought that it was unfair how throughout his life he's only ever been allowed to have two at the same time. But the world keeps turning and changing non-stop, and so do the whims of lady Fortune.

So, who knows? Maybe for the first time…

 

**Author's Note:**

> *whispers* You two are my babies and I'll take care of you forever~
> 
> I already explained it in [Building bridges ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7293868) (which is probably semi-necessary to understand the last part, sorry about that) But Rihonor de Castilla for Spain and Rio de Onor for Portugal is the same town split into two by the border that crosses just in the middle of a little bridge. It's a real place that still exists and my headcanon is that they used to sneak out to meet there when they were under their respective dictatorships.
> 
> * * *
> 
> and now...
> 
> ## IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT 
> 
> ARE YOU 20 OR OLDER? DO YOU LIKE WRITING? DO YOU LIKE APH ROLEPLAY OR ARE INTERESTED IN TRYING IT OUT? 
> 
> ##  [THEN CHECK US OUT!! ](http://scriptorium-rp.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Scriptorium is a canonverse, serious roleplay ring.[ I play Spain in there](http://comoelcaudaldelebro.tumblr.com/) (for over a year in fact) and I love every nerd in there. We have a few open characters at the moment. Like China, Italy, The Netherlands, and... oh my woes, also PORTUGAL
> 
>  ~~srsly guys, I’m desperate for a Portugal, cm’on~~... ;__;


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